


A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Iron Heights

by Swashbuckler



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Episode Related, Episode: s02e09 Running to Stand Still, Gen, The Rogues (DCU) As Family, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 10:38:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11439114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swashbuckler/pseuds/Swashbuckler
Summary: After being defeated by the Flash, the Weather Wizard and the Trickster are transported back to Iron Heights.





	A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Iron Heights

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted on Swashbuckler - I have now moved over here, sorry for the confusion! ^^

“You crazy old freak,” snarled Mark, glaring at the Trickster. They were locked in the back of an armoured truck, being transported back to Iron Heights. “You said that plan would work-!”

“It was your plan, Marky-Mark,” Jesse half-sang. Mark just angrily thumped his fist against the glass of the holding cell he was in, far too similar to the Pipeline holding cells for his liking. The Trickster was handcuffed and restrained opposite him. 

“I should never have broken you out.” 

“Ah, but you did, and at Christmas, too. How sweet,” James crooned, before chuckling darkly. “Everyone needs company around the holidays, Marrrrrrk.”

“When I break out, I’m not taking you with me again.” 

“Oh, Mark, don’t be like that,” pouted James sullenly. “If you don’t, someone else will, after all - I’ve been having a good year for that~”

“Speaking of,” sneered Mark, leaning against the cell wall, folding his arms, “why didn’t you ask me to break your son out with you?” 

James’ bemused expression faded, the Trickster blinking slowly at the Weather Wizard. “My son…” he murmured, as if confused.

“Yeah, the baby Trickster wannabe who blew a hole in Iron Heights to break you out. I read about it after Snart freed me from the STAR Labs lot. They said he was your son.” 

James cocked his head at that curiously. “STAR Labs?” 

“Yeah, that’s where the Flash is based.” 

“Oh, Mark, then why didn’t we just attack there instead?” 

“What, where they’re ready for us? Full of experimental technology, failsafes, and a prison that can withstand multiple Metahumans?” he growled. James shrugged as best he could against the restraints. 

“Could’ve been fun~” he grinned slyly. Mark rolled his eyes.

“You’re avoiding my question,” he observed, dropping down onto the bench in his box.

“What question?” 

“The question I just- Don’t give me that look,” he muttered angrily, raising an eyebrow at the Trickster’s innocently perplexed face, “I’m not falling for anything you’re doing.”

_Again,_ he added reluctantly in his head.

James stared at Mark, gaze fixed and unwavering, before he gave a little sigh. He honestly looked ashamed of himself.

“My son...He is my son...They won’t let me see him…” he said sadly. 

“Why didn’t you ask for him to be broken out too, then? It’s not like we were on a clock with my powers at my disposal,” he said smugly, before his expression turned more sombre.

“I...forgot about him.”

“'Forgot'?” Mark said incredulously. James nodded.

“The guards tended to joke- well, ‘joke’ meaning more ‘fearfully comment with nervous laughter,” James sneered, “that I have a one-track mind. I don’t, but...the Flash might’ve become a teeny tiny obsession of mine,” he confessed with an exaggerated wince. 

Mark remembered the crazed drawings all over the Trickster’s cell walls. “Would never have guessed,” he said flatly. James continued talking, not registering the derision in Mark’s tone, or that he’d spoken at all, in fact.

“But my son, my sweet little boy,” James said sadly, “I forgot about him. I forgot about my son,” he said again, more agitated, as if the weight of what he was saying was dawning on him. “I forgot about Axel!” he wailed. 

Mark stared, unsure if he was more amazed at the Trickster’s genuine distress or the fact that he’d just referred to the man who’d set up explosives around the city as his ‘sweet little boy’. Then again, this was the Trickster, he reasoned. 

“Hey...it’s okay,” Mark offered awkwardly. “You’ll get to see him again.” Sure, the Trickster was off his rocker, but... Something in Mark's stomach twisted; family can really get to a man. 

“I don’t know where he is in the prison,” James said sadly. “What if they’ve put him in with someone else? He’s very skinny, they’d break him, beat him to a pulp,” he said, lip quivering as he looked at Mark.

_Oh man, please don’t cry, please don’t cry, please don’t- ****._

“Wait, what was the kid’s name?” Mark asked, expression pained as the infamous Trickster began to sob in front of him. “Hey, hey, Jess- _James_ , listen to me. You said his name was Axel, right? And he went by Axel Walker, yeah?”

James nodded, hiccuping. “It was the surname the orphanage gave him. ‘Jesse’ was too easy to connect the dots, so was ‘Clark’ - they wanted to keep him as far away from me and his mother as possible.” 

_‘Mother’_. That was something Mark hadn’t considered before. _Who was the kid’s-? Nevermind. Question for another time._

“Right, Axel Walker- I remember there was a news broadcast recently about the Walker kid - saying he was being moved to Breedmore.” 

“Breedmore?” muttered James, frowning, tears stopping like a switch had been flicked. Mark nodded.

“Pretty sure. They said they’d be treating him there - whether just for the family crazy gene or other reasons I don’t know,” Mark shrugged. “But Breedmore is safe. He’ll be fine.”

James nodded slowly, sniffing sadly. “Okay,” he said in a soft voice. “I’ve heard there’s better food there than Iron Heights, anyway,” he said casually, relaxing in his seat. Mark snorted.

“All food is better than Iron Heights food, I bet,” he laughed. “If you ever get to try Heatwave’s cooking-”

“Heatwave?” James asked curiously, smiling widely. “I thought he was Captain Cold’s partner in crime~? Not playing felonious homewrecker, are you, Mark~?”

Mark glared at the Trickster. “Cold and Rory gave me a place to stay - along with a couple of others - after Snart broke me out. Rory can really cook,” Mark mused. James sniggered as the Weather Wizard’s stomach rumbled. “Shut it.” 

Both started as the truck screeched to a sudden halt, Mark clinging the bench in his glass cell to stop himself falling. “What’s going on? I swear Iron Heights is further than th-” 

There was shouting outside. Mark frowned at James - James just gave the man a perplexed look in return - as the truck rocked a little, as if people were frantically exiting the cabin at the front.

“Should we be worried-?” Mark was cut off by the loud, rhythmic clunks against the back of the truck door.

“What the-” 

The doors to the back of the truck swung open. 

“Well, hellooo~” was James’ lascivious croon at the sight of the Golden Glider stood there, a pair of bolt cutters in her hand. 

“Merry Christmas,” Lisa smirked. “That’s another one you owe us, Mark~”

“****, just when I’d got even,” he laughed as Lisa climbed up into the truck and began to tackle the locking system of Mark’s cell. 

“Mark,” drawled James from the side, watching Lisa curiously. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to the lady~?” 

“Lisa Snart, Captain Cold’s sister,” beamed Lisa at the Trickster. She paused, eyeing him carefully. “I know who you are.” 

“Good,” grinned James evilly up at her. “So, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Just that - we like having people owe us," she smiled serenely. "And as it's the season of good cheer, I didn’t think it’d be fair for you to spend Christmas back in prison when Mark gave me my brother back as a present.” 

Mark snorted. “Any time, Glider. Ah, that’s better,” he grinned as the door of his cell swung open. “What’d you do with the guards? How’d you stop the truck?”

“That was me,” came a voice from the back of the truck. Mark snorted, nodding to the man. 

“Bivolo.”

“Mardon,” sneered Roy back. “I thought you were staying out of trouble.”

“Me?” Mark said as he jumped down from the truck. “No chance.” 

Roy snorted. “The guards are literally pissing themselves in the bushes,” he called up to Lisa, and now Mark could see the shimmer of yellow slipping out of Roy’s irises as the man replaced his sunglasses. “They’ll be there for a while.” 

James made a sound of delight, stretching as Lisa finished removing his restraints. “So much better,” he purred happily, cricking his neck and rubbing his wrists. 

Lisa hopped down off of the truck. “Well done, Raider - you gonna be good to take these two back to the safehouse in your car?”

“Sure thing, Glider.” 

“Hey,” Mark said, glancing over at James as Lisa helped him down out of the truck, the Trickster offering the woman a mock curtsey and a mischievous smile in thanks which she returned, “can we stop somewhere on the way?”

“Where?” Lisa called, climbing back onto her bike, helmet in hand. 

Mark just grinned. “Breedmore Hospital. There’s one more person we need to pick up...”

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first fic posted on Ao3, and therefore shall remain the first one posted on my new account. <3


End file.
